


D&D - Childhood

by rprambles



Series: Moe Dulosk [1]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Beginnings, Dealing with Bullies, Gen, Lightining Strike, Racism, missing parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-26 02:08:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20922413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rprambles/pseuds/rprambles
Summary: The youth of Moe Dulosk





	D&D - Childhood

"Hey Moe. C'mere, little one."

Moe's feet click against the wood floors as he steps forward. His father scoops him up and sets him on the table. He looks sad.

"I'm going on a trip. A dangerous one, so I can't take you with me."

Moe frowns. His father has gone on trips before. Usually Moe can tag along with him; they even went to Neverwinter once. "Where?"

"To find your mother. I've told you about her." He opens his locket to let Moe see the portrait inside. A tiny image of a woman smiles out at him, skin a rust-red like his. He absently rubs his nubby horns and wonders if they'll grow and curl like hers.

"She was taken from us when you were just born.” His father closes the pendant and sighs. “I was going to wait when you were older but... I don't think I can."

"When will you be back?"

"I don't know. It might be a long time, but I will come back, I promise. You'll be safe here. Agnes and Nora will look out for you, as if you were their own."

Moe frowns and looks down at his hooves. "...I don't like it."

"I don't either. But sometimes we have to do things whether we like them or not."

"I thought that was just vegetables."

His father laughs. "It's also vegetables." He cups Moe's face and kisses his forehead. "I love you, Moe."

"Love you, Papa."

His father takes off his other necklace, the one with the pretty stone that Moe likes, and puts it over his head. "Here. You keep this. It'll help me find my way back."

Moe closes his hand around it and holds it tight. "Okay."

"Be good for Agnes and Nora, alright?"

"Okay. You promise?"

His father cups his face again, gaze soft. “I swear on my soul, Moe.” He seals it with another kiss on Moe’s forehead, then picks him up and hugs him. Moe clings to him tight, hiding tears in his father’s shirt.

“I love you so much, little one. I always will.”

  


* * *

  


Loren is avoiding him. Moe knows this because every time he sees Loren, Loren quickly walks the other way. What he doesn't know is why. He can't think of anything he's done to hurt or upset him. But Agnes says that it can be hard to know when you've hurt someone, so if in doubt, you should ask.

So Moe finds Loren at his father's stable. Loren frowns, glancing nervously around. "You shouldn't be here."

"Did I do something?"

Loren shrugs and looks away.

"Why don't you want to play anymore?"

"Because you're bad."

Moe scrunches his nose. He doesn't like the way he said that. "What does that mean?"

Loren gestures to Moe's... everything, really. "You. You're a tiefling. That means you're bad."

"Who says?"

"Everybody. Tieflings steal and lie and hurt people."

"I don't."

"You could."

"But I _don't_."

"But you _could_,” Loren insists. “That's why your parents abandoned you."

Moe frowns. He grips the stone pendant - his father's necklace. Loren's wrong. He's being mean and suddenly Moe doesn't want to be around him anymore. "You're wrong."

"Am not. It's true. You're bad, and your moms are dumb.”

He stops mid-turn and looks at Loren again. “What did you say?”

“Your moms are dumb for thinking-”

Moe’s fist cuts Loren off. There’s something satisfying in the impact, the anger rushing out of him through his fist. He feels better.

He doesn’t feel so better later, sitting on a kitchen stool and holding his tail as Agnes frowns at him. “I know you’re upset that Loren won’t play with you, but hitting him isn’t going to solve that.”

“I know,” he mumbles

“Then why did you hit him?”

“He’s mean.”

“Moe, you cannot go around punching everyone who you see as mean.”

He lifts his head with a frown. “He said you were dumb.”

Agnes stops and Nora frowns. “What?”

Moe lets go of his tail and sighs. “He said that you two are dumb. That’s why I hit him.”

Agnes softens and looks to Nora. The dwarven woman shrugs. “That’s fair, I can’t punish him for that.”

“...alright. But you understand that starting fights is wrong.”

Moe nods.

“And you may have to apologize to Loren for hitting him.” She smiles when he scrunches his nose. “What he said was unkind, but that isn’t an excuse for violence. Alright?"

“Okay.”

Agnes kisses his forehead. Nora picks him up and hugs him. “You’re a good boy, Moe. Doesn’t matter what anyone else says.”

  


* * *

  


“C’mon, boy, come get me.”

Moe digs his hooves into the mud, blinking away rain as he stares at the dragonborn. They flash him a fang-toothed grin. He smirks and charges, hands slipping against smooth scales as he wrestles against their strength.

“C’mon, you can do-”

A sharp headbutt to their snout throws them off and their feet slip in the mud. Moe pushes the advantage, shoving them into the ground. A warm deep laugh is almost lost in the thunder. “Good.” Zedaar wipes mud from their snout and sits up. “You’ve got some damn spirit, boy.”

“Thanks- oof!” Moe grunts and laughs as Zedaar throws him over a shoulder.

“Never let your guard down, boy!” Zedaar dumps him in a puddle.

“Moe! Come inside before you catch cold.”

Both the teenaged tiefling and the seasoned adventurer groan. “Just a bit longer?” Moe asks.

Nora shakes her head. “You’re soaked to the bone as is.”

“Your ma’s right about that.” Zedaar gives him a hand up and claps him on the shoulder. “But that was a good bout.”

Moe smiles. Thunder rumbles above and he pauses, closing his eyes to listen to the rain around him.

“Moe!”

He sighs softly. “Coming-”

He’s flat on his back, chest heaving. Everything feels odd. Tingly and buzzing. Voices are yelling and he hears feet slapping against the mud. And then Nora’s above him, cupping his face. “Moe?! Moe, talk to me.”

“Wh-what was that?”

Zedaar appears at his other side, eyes wide. “My gods, boy, how are you still breathin’?”

“What happened?” A halfling runs up, looking to Zedaar and then Moe.

“He got struck by lightning! Can you check t’ see if he’s alright, Kithri?”

Kithri gapes for a moment, then nods. She holds an amulet over him and mutters softly. Moe watches the gold coin sway over him.

“...Lady Luck smiles on you.” she says after a moment. “You’re fine. But I do advise some rest after that.”

Nora helps Moe to his feet, keeping close to him as they head to the door. Agnes is waiting there; she hugs him, ignoring the mud that gets on her dress. “Oh thank the gods...”

Moe rests his head on her shoulder, frowning when he hears her sob. “Sorry.”

  


* * *

  


He likes working with wood. Shaping and carving designs into the wood until it was something else. Listening to the scrape of wood and Perren’s pleasant baritone. He can lose time in here, forgetting that the outside world exists.

“Moe, why don’t you sing with me?”

He doesn’t look up from his work. “Can’t sing.”

“Have you tried?”

“I’m not singing, Perren.”

The wood elf waves a hand at him and picks up the song again. Moe just keeps carving, enjoying the calm of the workshop. It’s eventually broken by footsteps. Perren stops singing and welcomes the customers. They look over the display, and Moe smiles a little to hear them admiring the pendants he made.

A clink of coin and the customers are gone. Perren hums happily as he tucks the money away and Moe loses himself in the peace again.

  


* * *

  


“Agnes? Nora?”

“Yes, dear?”

Moe takes a breath. Maybe early morning isn’t the best time to bring it up, but it’s the only time the little family has before the inn starts up. “I’m leaving. At the end of the week.”

They both stare at him for a moment. Nora sets her mug down. “Leaving? To go where?”

“I’m going to look for Dad.”

“What?! Moe, that’s...” At a loss for words, she looks to Agnes.

“Moe, it’s been a long time,” Agnes says, tone somber. “I hate to say it, and I know you don’t want to hear it-”

“He’s not dead.”

Nora sighs. “Okay, assuming he’s not. Where are you gonna start? It’s been twenty years, and Faerun isn’t exactly small.”

“Neverwinter’s not far. I can start there. Find a mage that can scry. I’ve been saving, I’ve got a greatsword and I know how to use it.”

“That’s why you’ve been training with the milita?” Agnes realizes.

He nods.

Nora stares. “Gods, Moe, how long have you been thinking about this?”

“...a couple years.”

They exchange a look. Agnes sighs. “You’re a grown man, darling. We certainly can’t stop you, if this is what you want to do.”

“We just worry about you.” Nora gives him a fond smile. “Think of you as our own.”

“I know.” Moe hugs them both. “Thanks.”


End file.
